


To Our Spouses!

by dance_across



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bisexuality, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Drinking, Facials, Fluid Sexuality, Hair-pulling, Hotel Sex, Kneeling, M/M, Open Relationships, POV Victor, Partner Swapping, Two Subs Walk Into A Bar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 14:32:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14334522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dance_across/pseuds/dance_across
Summary: They said yes. Everyone involved said yes. And so: the trip out of town, so as not to make the triplets suspicious. And so: the hotel, the drinks, the two rooms. And so: Victor sitting here, attempting conversation with Takeshi, while Yuuri and his childhood best friend have sex a few doors down the hall.





	To Our Spouses!

**Author's Note:**

> Here, have the Victor/Takeshi fic that literally nobody asked for. Except the amazing [airspaniel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/airspaniel/pseuds/airspaniel), who helped me plot the ending, who beta-read the whole thing, who came up with the title, and who said, lo those many moons ago, "Not nobody. Me. Me. I am officially asking you for the Victor/Takeshi fic," for which I am eternally grateful

“To our spouses,” Victor says cheerfully, holding his glass aloft. “May they have everything their hearts desire tonight, and may they come home happy.”

“I… uh, yeah,” Takeshi says, and clinks his glass against Victor’s. They collide hard enough that a splash of sake escapes and falls to the bar. “Maybe not so loud, though?”

The look on Takeshi’s face is strained, maybe even pained, and Victor realizes that, yes, he is being sort of loud. And while Takeshi might be easygoing about matters like this, he’s not… well, he’s not, for instance, Chris.

Chris would be bragging by now, at the top of his lungs, to the bartender and whoever else might be listening—not glancing nervously around, afraid of being caught.

Victor doesn’t mind either way, really, and so he taps the side of his nose and agrees, “Not so loud.”

“It’s just,” Takeshi rushes to explain, “that people already know we’re all friends. People used to suspect that she and Yuuri were together. Right up until she married me, everyone suspected that. And now—”

And now _he’s_ the one getting a little too loud. But before Victor can point this out, Takeshi cuts himself off with a shake of his head, then drains his glass in one gulp. Victor watches him intently.

“Do you regret agreeing to this?” he asks. It’s an honest question. They all agreed that any of them—any of the four of them—could put a stop to it at any time.

But Takeshi says, “No.”

Okay, so it’s not that. What, then?

“Are you afraid you’ll get recognized?” Victor tries.

Takeshi sputters a laugh. Which is fair. They’re over an hour away from Hasetsu, and he’s not one of the world-famous athletes in this so-called couples’ retreat.

“No,” he says, sure enough. “I’m afraid _you’ll_ get recognized.”

Victor gives him a tiny shrug. “I always get recognized. You get used to it after a while.”

Takeshi squints at him. “Is Yuuri used to it?”

This actually gives Victor a moment’s pause. Because, no, despite their years of marriage, Yuuri is not yet used to Victor’s reputation affecting him. He may never be. And while Victor is invariably conscious of this when Yuuri is actually present, he is still learning to take it into account when Yuuri isn’t there.

“You’re a good friend,” he tells Takeshi, meaning it absolutely. “Shall we take this upstairs, then? Order a few bottles to be delivered to my room?”

To his and Yuuri’s room, really—or, at least, the room where he and Yuuri will be sleeping, after everything else is finished. It’s their only option, since the Nishigoris’ room is, at present, otherwise occupied.

“Yeah,” Takeshi says. “That’d be good. Yeah.”

-

Victor is incredibly grateful that they weren’t able to get adjacent rooms at the hotel in Fukuoka. This way, he can’t be tempted to press his ear to the door and hear what’s going on.

Victor is also incredibly _annoyed_ that they weren’t able to get adjacent rooms at the hotel in Fukuoka. This way, he doesn’t even have the _option_ of pressing his ear to the door and hearing what’s going on.

The sake they ordered should arrive at any moment. Meanwhile, Takeshi strides into Victor’s room like he owns the place, plopping himself down in the nearest chair and spreading his knees wide. Victor honestly can’t tell if he’s making a show of being relaxed because he actually isn’t, or if he’s just being himself.

He doesn’t know Nishigori Takeshi nearly well enough to read those kinds of things into his body language—and that, in itself, stirs something in the back of Victor’s brain. He is twenty-two again, suddenly, and he has followed a sponsor’s son (or a fan, or a friend, or a competitor, or a hockey player, or a bartender, or a random man with nice eyes or nice hair or nice arms or, or, or) back to his hotel room. He is keenly aware of being looked at, and keenly aware of what his role is.

Except—no. This is not about him, not this time. This is about Yuuri; it was about Yuuri from the start. Victor is here as Yuuri’s husband and confidante and system of support. Nothing more.

He sits down on the bed, trying very hard not to look like a person who is trying very hard to be attractive.

It’s disconcerting, actually, the way Victor’s body still reacts to being alone in a hotel room with someone he barely knows. Years have passed since his last drunken and/or ill-advised one night stand, but all those pre-Yuuri impulses are rooted so deeply.

Arrange your legs just so.

Figure out a way to show off your ass.

Tilt your head, let your hair do its thing.

Find your light, find your smile, find the part of yourself that genuinely enjoys this and won’t regret it too much in the morning.

Victor doesn’t do any of these things. He sits there, stiffly, and tries to seem casual.

“Do _you_ regret agreeing to this?” Takeshi says.

Victor looks up—why in the world was he looking _down?_ —and sees Takeshi watching him, curious and maybe a little worried.

“No, no,” Victor says. “It was my idea in the first place. I just—”

There’s a knock on the door, and they both jump out of their seats with a scarily-in-unison “I’ll get it!”

Victor looks at Takeshi. Takeshi looks at Victor. A current of understanding passes between them, and within seconds Victor is doubled over with laughter, and Takeshi is laughing with him. It’s _so ridiculous_ , this whole thing. It really is.

“I’ll get it,” Takeshi says again, before Victor can recover his breath. He slaps Victor on the shoulder and heads for the door. And comes back with a tray: two bottles of sake, four glasses. “They underestimated my drinking abilities.”

“And mine,” Victor agrees.

They pour. They drink. The atmosphere isn’t un-awkward yet, but at least it’s starting to move in the right direction.

Eventually, Victor grows tired of perching on the edge of the bed. He slides to the floor, back against the mattress, knees pulled up enough that his feet can rest flat on the floor. He sips from his glass, and sips again.

“Do you guys do this kind of thing a lot?” Takeshi’s question is so sudden that Victor’s neck tenses with how fast he looks up.

“No,” Victor replies, and then hesitates. But only for a second, because what’s the point of holding anything back? He tosses back the remaining liquid in his glass. “We have thirds sometimes. But not often. And always together.”

“And always men,” Takeshi adds. It’s not a question, because he already knows the answer.

Victor nods. “Always men.”

He hesitates, then, because Takeshi already knows the rest. How Victor is really only attracted to men, but once slept with a female friend to see what it was like. How he enjoyed himself, and made sure she enjoyed herself too, but never felt the need to do it again. How this information surprised Yuuri, who considered himself bisexual but had only ever slept with men.

Or. Well. More to the point, he’d only ever slept with _Victor._

A conversation was had. A suggestion was made, and then a decision. Another conversation was had, this time with the Nishigoris present. _We know that your marriage is somewhat unconventional,_ Victor remembers saying, very politely, very respectfully. _You know that ours is, too. Please don’t feel like you have to say yes, but we had an idea…_

Victor did all the talking, that evening. Victor and Yuuko. Yuuri, red-faced, sipped delicately at his drink. Takeshi just watched the conversation volley back and forth as though keeping score.

But they said yes. Everyone involved said yes. And so: the trip out of town, so as not to make the triplets suspicious. And so: the hotel, the drinks, the two rooms. And so: Victor sitting here, attempting conversation with Takeshi, while Yuuri and his childhood best friend have sex a few doors down the hall.

Which is a thing that Victor, who is a good and loyal husband, will not think too hard about. He’ll wait for Yuuri to tell him how it was. He won’t assume anything.

Except that’s when Takeshi says, “So what do you think they’re doing?”

And just like that, all bets are off, because Victor finds himself snorting with laughter and saying, “Oh, probably nothing much yet. It’s only been, what, half an hour? And Yuuri can get so nervous…”

He makes himself stop talking, even though his mouth, probably supported by all the sake he’s had this evening, definitely wants to keep going. He doesn’t want to cross a line, betray Yuuri’s confidence. Although, it’s not like Takeshi doesn’t have _eyes_. Victor’s not the only one who saw Yuuri’s face before he and Yuuko split off. It was part excitement, part terror, part steely resolve. It was also exceedingly attractive.

“Yuuri? Nervous?” Takeshi widens his eyes, feigning shock. _“Never.”_

“Well, I don’t mean he’s nervous all the time, in situations like—I mean, when he’s…” Victor runs a hand through his hair; it flops immediately back into his face. “Once the nervousness is past, he’s really a very take-charge sort of person.”

“Yeah, so’s Yuuko,” Takeshi says easily.

Victor can’t help himself. He just can’t. “What about you?” he blurts out.

“Me?” Takeshi barks a laugh. “Nah, she… I just like making her happy. Whatever she wants. _You_ know how it is.”

“Oh, do I?” says Victor, tilting his head a little. It’s a flirty pose, and he knows it, but he finds that he cares a lot less after a few glasses of sake.

“Come on,” says Takeshi. “I’ve seen you two together. Even caught you in the rink that one time, remember?”

Oh, god. Oh, fuck. Yes. Victor remembers, despite trying very hard to block it out. Yuuri, skate guards on, skin glistening with sweat as he leaned back against the boards. Victor, crouched in front of him, fingers tugging at the waistband of Yuuri’s practice pants as he smelled, tasted—

“How much did you actually see?” Victor asks now, because this is a night of truths. And he’s known ever since it happened that when Takeshi yelped and went _It’s okay, didn’t see anything!_ and fled the room, he was absolutely not telling the truth.

Takeshi gives a one-shouldered shrug, which turns quickly into a sly smirk. “Enough,” he says.

Victor raises an eyebrow. “Meaning what, exactly?”

“Meaning the lights were on, and you guys weren’t exactly trying to hide.” Takeshi pours himself another glass, and then downs it all in one gulp. “Meaning that I always suspected Katsuki had a big dick, and I found out that night that I was right.” Another glass; another gulp. “Meaning that it looked like you, Nikiforov, give _very_ good blow jobs.”

Victor feels his entire body go hot. He is rooted to the floor, suddenly, unable to move.

Takeshi leans over, tilting a little bit out of his chair, and reaches one hand out.

“Meaning,” he says, as his fingers thread through Victor’s hair and give it the lightest of tugs, “that you make some very memorable noises when Yuuri does _this.”_ Another tug, and then he lets go.

Victor does not make another of those memorable noises now. Oh, he can feel one sliding up his throat—but he stops it just behind his teeth. Only a whimper manages to escape.

But even that small noise makes Takeshi’s eyes widen. He withdraws his hand with a quick, “Sorry, I should’ve asked—”

“It’s fine,” Victor says breathlessly, and finds that he means it.

Well, more or less.

It’s fine that Takeshi leaned over and took hold of his hair. What’s less fine is the fact that he feels so suddenly… so suddenly _visible_ to this person that he, really, barely knows. No, not even suddenly. He’s been visible for a while now, just without knowing it. Takeshi saw him with Yuuri at the rink that night, on his knees, sucking, making noises. Takeshi _remembers,_ and… 

And, sure, they were given permission tonight—a quick _You boys can have some fun, too, you know_ from Yuuko, accompanied by an enthusiastic nod and a _You just have to tell us about it_ from Yuuri—before their spouses went off together, but it wasn’t like Victor intended to _do_ anything.

Intends. Intend. Not intended. Victor does not intend, present tense, to do anything.

Which does not explain why the next thing that tumbles out of Victor’s mouth is, “You always suspected Yuuri was big, did you? Does that mean you’re interested in men?”

It’s where they are. It’s the hotel-room thing. It’s fucking with him; it must be.

“Well,” Takeshi says, more seriously than Victor might have anticipated, “I’m not _not_ interested in men? It’s more like… it was never really relevant. First girls were icky and gross, and then there was Yuuko.” He grins. “And it’s still Yuuko, and it’ll always be Yuuko, so it never really mattered.”

Victor blinks. That’s more or less what Yuuri said, when the topic first came up between them. _Sure, I guess I’m bi, but why does it matter? I’ve got you. I don’t want anyone else._

That was, of course, before they started entertaining the idea of threesomes. Before they started actually _having_ threesomes. After a little bit of that, Yuuri’s attitude was less _why does it matter_ and more _maybe it matters._

Victor, who spent a solid twenty years avoiding any kind of nuanced exploration of his own identity, and who has since entwined his life with Yuuri’s and discovered a great many important things about himself in the process, is certain that it matters.

Everything matters.

But Victor’s skin is still buzzing from when Takeshi grabbed his hair, and it’s taking him far longer than it normally would to put this into coherent words.

And before he can, Takeshi says, suddenly, “I did kiss a guy once, actually.”

“Yeah?” says Victor.

“Yeah.” He laughs and shakes his head. “God, I almost forgot. Yuuri and me, when we were teenagers. Yuuko made me kiss him so she could watch.”

For a second, Victor can only gape. Then—no. Wait. No, he knows this already. Yuuri’s _told_ him this. Except he said it like, _I’ve kissed Yuuko before._ And then, like an afterthought, _Nishigori, too._ No context, no details. Victor just assumed it wasn’t too important, and moved on.

“And did you…?” Victor’s mouth is dry; he’s not sure how to ask what he wants to ask. He takes another sip of sake and tries again: “What was… How was it?”

“Weird,” Takeshi says, meeting Victor’s eyes. “Good, though.”

He picks up the bottle again, and refills first his own glass, then Victor’s. There’s quiet but for a bit of sloshing and clinking, and Victor is keenly aware of three things.

First: He is sitting on the floor, Nishigori Takeshi looming over him. He wasn’t aware of the looming before, but he certainly is now.

Second: Takeshi is the sort of man who takes up a lot of space, not all of it physical. He is widely built, yes, but he also has a big voice, a big laugh. A big presence. Victor does not think of himself as a small person—he’s quite tall, he has very broad shoulders, he can summon a hell of a presence when he wants to—but here, in this room, with this person who’s known Yuuri far longer than he has, Victor feels small. In a good way. He thinks.

Third: The hotel thing. Still, still, the hotel thing. The more he drinks, the less he’s able to stop himself from trying to look attractive.

Fourth: There’s a fourth thing. It’s not just three. The fourth thing is that something in Victor’s gut is telling him that the trying-to-look-attractive is working. He can feel himself being noticed. He can feel himself becoming visible, this time in ways that aren’t by accident.

He drains his glass and holds it out, wordlessly, for a refill. Takeshi gives him one. Victor drains it.

“Just once?” he asks, as the liquid burns down his throat.

“Hm?” Takeshi says.

“You said you kissed a man once.” Victor pauses, just long enough to make sure he has Takeshi’s attention. “Was it only the once?”

Takeshi opens his mouth. Closes it again. The smallest line appears between his brows, like he’s trying to assess the situation. Finally, he replies, “So far.”

Decades-old instinct takes hold, and Victor lets his knees fall open, just a little bit, just casually. Takeshi’s gaze dips down, fixing just for a second on the space between Victor’s legs—and by the time he looks back up again, Victor is smiling. It’s a very specific sort of smile.

Despite his obvious interest, though, Takeshi hesitates. Is it because of what he said before? About Yuuko being, of the two of them, the more likely to take charge of a situation like this? Or is it simply because this whole thing is so new, so untested, so un-talked-about? Whatever the reason, this much is clear: The ball, so to speak, is in Victor’s court.

So Victor leans the back of his head against the edge of the mattress, which he knows will elongate the line of his throat—and he says, “You were right, you know.”

“Right?” Takeshi says. “About what?”

“You made an assumption about me, the night you caught us in the rink.” Victor lets his smile spread wider. “And you were right. I _do_ give very good blow jobs.”

“I, uh…” Takeshi’s face is bright red; his hands are white-knuckled as they clutch the arms of the chair. “Just, just so we’re clear, you’re—”

“Offering to demonstrate,” Victor finishes smoothly. “You can’t sit there, though. This rug is about as soft as concrete, and I have old-man knees.”

This makes Takeshi laugh, which is exactly what Victor wanted. The tension eases out of him a little, and he says, “Then where?”

“On the bed,” Victor says.

“Clothes on, clothes off…?”

“Depends on how much you care about getting come on your clothes,” Victor says, raising an eyebrow at Takeshi. “I don’t swallow for anyone but Yuuri.”

If Takeshi’s face was red before, that’s nothing compared to the color it is now. Maybe it’s the crude directness of Victor’s choice of words, or maybe it’s finally sinking in, what’s about to happen between them. Still, Takeshi doesn’t back down. He stands, slowly, and unbuckles his belt. Holds Victor’s gaze as he undoes his button, then his zipper, and then pulls everything down, leaving only his T-shirt and a pair of socks behind.

Victor nods his approval, and reminds him: “Bed.”

Nishigori Takeshi has the build of a man who cares about his body, but never to the exclusion of enjoying hearty food and drink. There’s softness around the edges of him, but he’s solid and strong underneath. Victor has noted this before, and he notes it again now, in the movement of Takeshi’s legs as he strides purposefully over to the bed, in the slide of muscle below flesh, now uncovered by clothing.

As Victor climbs to his feet, he also notes that Takeshi’s cock has the beginnings of stiffness about it, the pink head just starting to flush and swell.

Victor, for the first time this evening, feels himself stir in response.

“Lie down,” he says, and Takeshi does, scooting far enough up on the bed that there’s room for Victor at the foot. He looks uncertain like this—vulnerable, even—and so Victor makes his voice gentle when he says, “Spread your legs.”

“God,” Takeshi murmurs, and lets his legs fall open. Victor crawls up onto the bed, kneeing his way toward Takeshi, settling between his knees. His cock is growing steadily fatter before Victor’s eyes—and as Takeshi watches, Victor reaches out and wraps his hand around it.

An intake of breath. Takeshi’s eyes on him. Takeshi’s flesh under his hand, pulsing, stiffening.

“Yeah?” Victor says, moving his thumb gently up and down the shaft. It’s not particularly large or particularly small, but Victor likes the color of it, and as its curve becomes more apparent, Victor finds that it feels nice in his hand.

“I’ve—I’ve never—”

“Never what?”

One of Takeshi’s hands clutches at the bedclothes, and the other makes a vague gesture in the air. He’s less confident, now that Victor’s between his knees. “You know,” he says. “With a man.”

“I don’t have to keep going,” Victor says, even as he begins to move his fist up the shaft of Takeshi’s cock, closer to the head. He grins. “You don’t _have_ to get the best blow job of your life tonight.”

Takeshi laughs, low and hearty. “I don’t know about that, my wife— _ahh—”_

And just like that, as he watches Takeshi buck in response to Victor’s finger skimming over his cockhead, Victor knows how to make him less nervous.

“Your wife, indeed,” Victor says. “Your wife and my husband. What do you think they’re doing right now?”

He didn’t intend to think about that until he heard the details from Yuuri himself. But he also didn’t intend to end up with Nishigori Takeshi’s pleasantly-curved dick in his hand tonight. So.

“Ahh,” Takeshi says. “The two of them. Yeah.”

“That wasn’t a rhetorical question,” says Victor. He bends low, then—low enough that he knows Takeshi can feel his breath, can see the arch of his back, the shape of his ass as he crouches on the bedspread. “What are they doing? Go on. Tell me.”

And then, bracing one hand on the meatiest part of Takeshi’s thigh, Victor lowers his head the last few inches, and takes Takeshi’s cock between his lips.

He tastes different from Yuuri. Well, of course; everyone does. But it doesn’t matter how many men Victor sucks, how many thirds he and Yuuri bring home with them. This is his first thought, every time: _He is not Yuuri._ It isn’t a bad thing. It’s just a thing Victor will never fail to notice.

The flesh of Takeshi’s head is soft and plump, and as Victor sucks lightly at it, Takeshi lets out a few ragged breaths, a few jagged exclamations, before finally answering: “Um, they’re. Um. I dunno, fucking?”

Victor gives him an encouraging hum, which makes Takeshi jerk and writhe. Victor’s tongue swirls; Takeshi swears under his breath.

Then, to Victor’s surprise, he actually keeps talking. “Maybe not fucking yet. She doesn’t like to jump right into it. Especially not with someone new….”

 _Same with Yuuri,_ Victor thinks, and takes Takeshi just a little bit deeper.

“She—she likes, um…” Takeshi breathes out, then in again, very loudly. “She’d make him go down on her, maybe? Finger her a little?”

The image drops like water into Victor’s mind, vivid as anything: Yuuri with his nose buried between Yuuko’s legs. Maybe there’s a thatch of hair there, obscuring his face. Maybe he’s got a finger inside her, or two, or three. The head of Takeshi’s cock hits the back of his throat, and he sucks and sucks.

“And kissing,” Takeshi adds, his thigh trembling under Victor’s hand. “Kissing gets her so hot. Just, a _lot_ of kissing.”

Victor hums again. Yuuko is so lucky, having Yuuri to kiss tonight. Yuuri is wonderful at kissing.

“And, and—” There’s a thrust building in Takeshi’s hips. Victor can feel it. But it doesn’t happen, not yet. “Her tits. She’d definitely make him suck her tits, she loves that—”

“Yuuri, too,” Victor says, as he pulls off. Only his mouth, though. His hand is still wrapped firmly around the base of Takeshi’s cock.

Takeshi blinks at him, red-faced and dazed. “Yuuri, too,” he repeats.

Victor nods, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Sensitive little nipples,” he says. “He makes the most amazing noises if you pinch them.”

“Or bite them?” Takeshi suggests.

Victor has no idea if he’s asking about Yuuri or volunteering more information about Yuuko, but he still says, “Or that. Maybe that’s what they’re doing now. She’s discovering all those little noises he makes, and maybe he’s still got his hand on her—”

“Or inside her,” Takeshi says, breathless. “God, can you—can you—”

Of course Victor can. And this time, when he takes Takeshi’s dark-flushed cock into his mouth, he moves his free hand from Takeshi’s thighs to his balls. He cups them lightly, feels out their natural movement, feels hair and skin and gathering sweat, as his lips and tongue move delicately, deliberately, down the shaft he holds in his other hand, and then up again.

“She’ll suck him too, if he wants it,” Takeshi says. “She’s got the most perfect mouth, and she _oh god oh!_ Like that, just like that, god, I’m…”

Victor plays gently with Takeshi’s balls, fingers curved just enough to let nails scrape over sensitive flesh. His T-shirt has ridden up, and his belly is rising and falling rapidly. He’s starting to get close—close enough that Victor pulls off again, both mouth and hand this time. His other hand still cradles Takeshi’s balls, but Takeshi’s cock is open to the air now, bobbing and leaking.

“No, come on,” Takeshi moans, and reaches for himself.

Victor bats his hand away, though. “Not yet. Finish what you were saying. Something about your wife’s mouth?”

Takeshi’s chest is heaving. His eyes are wild. In an instant, Victor becomes certain that he isn’t used to being teased like this.

“She, she,” he begins, between heavy breaths. “Come on, you have to—you have to—”

Victor grins, curling his fingers, letting his nails dig in a little more. “I have to what?”

“Come on,” Takeshi says, desperate. “Come on.”

He’s not playing along anymore. If this were Yuuri underneath him, or Chris, or someone else he knew well, Victor might try to push further. He might ask for begging, or for an admission, even if false, that this _is_ the best blow job he’s ever gotten. But Takeshi’s already so far out of his element—and Victor… well, Victor remembers what that feels like.

He remembers being held by Masha, his friend and supplier of illegal alcohol, when he was a curious and exploratory teenager. She held him during, she held him after. As though she could sense that he needed it. And she was right. He did. He was leagues out of his comfort zone that night, and he needed something to steady him.

Takeshi may not be a teenager, but Victor recognizes the look in his eyes.

“It’s all right,” he says kindly. “I’ve got you.”

This time, when Victor closes his mouth over Takeshi, he gives it everything he’s got. All of the tricks he knows Yuuri likes best—even some of the tricks Yuuri uses on _him._ And then, before long, there’s a hand in his hair, tugging. A warning.

Victor pulls off, spits into his hand, and starts pumping. Watches as the muscles of Takeshi’s neck grow taut, as his shoulders go stiff and his chest thrusts upwards. He was trying so hard to hold his hips in check before, but now that there’s no danger of choking Victor, he thrusts and thrusts… and then, with a groan, goes still. White erupts from him, landing on his belly, his T-shirt, Victor’s hand.

Victor watches him, fascinated, until his breathing starts to slow again. Only when he opens his eyes again does Victor let him go.

Takeshi glances wildly around, at first, as if trying to get his bearings. And then his eyes settle on Victor. “Oh. Sorry, um…”

“Sorry for what?” Victor says. “That was lovely.”

“I mean your hand,” Takeshi says, and, ah, right. There’s a little streak of fluid, caught between Victor’s forefinger and his thumb.

Usually, he’d go find a towel and just wipe it off. Or run his hand under the tap. But tonight, he finds himself kneeing forward, stretching his body over Takeshi’s, and hovering above him as he holds his hand out like an offering. “You could clean it up for me.”

Victor expected hesitation. He doesn’t get any. Takeshi lifts his head just enough to capture Victor’s hand, to lick it clean. And then… it’s Takeshi leaning up, or it’s Victor leaning down, or maybe both, but either way their mouths meet.

The kiss is a no-frills affair. It’s lips moving, finding rhythm together, a silent way of simply saying, _Here we are. We’ve shared something intimate and new, and here we are._ It happens, and it’s good, and then it ends.

Sitting back on his heels, Victor smiles and says, “There. Now you’ve kissed two men.”

Takeshi laughs as he sits up. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“How’re you feeling?”

Another laugh. “Like I just got my dick sucked by a _fucking expert,_ that’s how.”

Victor smirks, and gives Takeshi his best false-modest shrug. “I did warn you.”

“You did,” Takeshi says, and groans as he sits up. He isn’t graceful—can’t be, probably, with Victor still between his legs, limiting his movement. So Victor backs off the end of the bed and stands up, allowing Takeshi the freedom to do as he likes.

Takeshi doesn’t move, though. He just follows Victor with his eyes. For a moment, there’s quiet between them. Quiet in which Victor allows himself to fully notice, for the first time since this all began, the weight of his own arousal, low in his belly. Quiet in which Takeshi’s gaze drops, and Victor sees the exact moment he registers the way Victor’s pants have tightened across the front.

Quiet in which Victor wonders if he should ask, or if he should let Takeshi find the words in his own time.

All at once, a grin spreads across Takeshi’s face, and he says, _“Well.”_

“Well?” Victor echoes, curious.

“Well, you’ve seen mine,” Takeshi says, pushing himself off the bed and grabbing his underwear off the floor. “No fair if I don’t get to see yours too, huh?”

Victor laughs. He likes this better than the quiet. “Oh yeah?”

Takeshi shrugs. Now that he’s covered himself again, some of his bravado from earlier is starting to return. “You heard me. And hey, maybe I could, ah…” He trails off, but a quick flick of his tongue across his bottom lip gives away his intention.

Victor gives him a coy smile. “Maybe you could.” And with that, he heads for the bed, intending to take the same position from which Takeshi just removed himself. It’ll be his first time, after all; even that much familiarity—a reversal of roles already played—might set him at ease.

But Takeshi catches his wrist before he reaches his destination. Victor snaps his head around, a question caught in his throat.

“You should stay standing,” Takeshi says, suddenly frantic. “And I should be, ah—”

His eyes dart downwards, almost too fast for Victor to catch.

“You should be what?” Victor asks.

“I—I always figured it’d be—”

Red is creeping up his neck, spreading across his cheeks, and Victor turns the words over in his head: _I always figured._ And it wasn’t _I want you to stay standing,_ just a second ago. It was _You should stay standing._

Should.

Always.

Victor smiles, nice and slow. “Nishigori Takeshi, have you pictured us doing this before?”

“Not… exactly?” Takeshi says, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I mean. Not you specifically. But me and Yuuko, we’ve… and…”

It doesn’t take long for Victor to guess the shape of the missing pieces here: “You’ve talked about what it would be like, you and another man.” He steps closer, crowding himself into Takeshi’s space. “Specifically, you sucking another man off.”

A moment passes. Takeshi nods.

“And you have ideas about how it should go,” Victor says. Then, when he gets a second nod, he adds, “Tell me. I should stay standing—and then what?”

Takeshi licks his lips, and takes a few breaths, and finally finds his voice. “Nothing fancy. You standing. Me on my knees. That’s… that’s it.”

He’s right. It’s not fancy. But Victor doesn’t need fancy. He’s tried fancy—used to try it all the time, when he was young. Sometimes it was fun, but more often than not, it ended in disappointment. And he doesn’t want this evening ending in disappointment.

He plants his feet. “I’d get a cushion, if I were you,” he tells Takeshi. “I wasn’t kidding about that floor.”

But Takeshi stays right where he is, holding Victor’s gaze for one beat, then two, before he puts one knee down, then the other. No cushion. And for some reason, the sight goes straight to Victor’s cock.

Maybe it’s just the rarity of it: someone else on his knees, instead of Victor himself. Maybe it’s confidence following so closely on the heels of obvious nervousness, which will never fail to remind Victor of Yuuri. Or maybe it’s just the desire that he can see in Takeshi’s face. He _wants_ this.

“Go on,” Victor says, lightheaded with alcohol and anticipation. “Take it out.”

Something sparks in Takeshi’s dark eyes, and he complies. He undoes the button on Victor’s pants, then the zipper. For a second, Victor is sure that Takeshi will try to pull his pants all the way down, all the way off—but he doesn’t. He pulls the waistband down just enough that it sits low on Victor’s hips, and then does the same with Victor’s underwear, leaving Victor’s half-hard cock exposed, and not much else.

“Good,” Victor says softly, as Takeshi wraps a hand around his cock. He isn’t Yuuri, because nobody is Yuuri, but his hand is firm and warm, and Victor is thickening in his grip. “Good.”

Apparently that’s all the encouragement Takeshi needs.

The first puff of breath on Victor’s cock makes him jolt; the first touch of Takeshi’s lips makes him sigh. And from there, it’s easy to let his eyes close and lose himself in sensation. Easier than he thought it would be, considering. But while it might be Takeshi’s first time sucking dick, he is an attentive and intuitive partner, responding quickly and eagerly to the noises Victor makes, _yes_ and _slower_ and _oh, right there, just like that...._

“You have a very talented tongue,” Victor tells him. It’s the truth. “But that can’t be news, right? I bet your wife tells you that all the time.”

Takeshi moans, and the sound sinks into Victor’s flesh, thrums through his whole body and oh, yes, he has to make that happen again. So he opens his eyes again, and he looks down, and he keeps going:

“I bet she makes you use that tongue of yours all the time, doesn’t she?” Victor says, eliciting another glorious moan. “Bet she tells you exactly where to put it, what to do with it… bet she gets off just from that tongue of yours, nothing else necessary…”

That’s when he remembers, from just a few moments ago, the story that Takeshi began to tell, before sinking to his knees. _Me and Yuuko, we’ve…_

“That’s why she wants to watch you do _this,”_ Victor guesses. “She wants you to use your tongue on another guy, doesn’t she? So she can watch this from the outside, yeah?”

Another moan, this one deeper, longer. Takeshi’s tongue keeps working and working, and he’s not taking Victor in very deep, but it still feels so, so good…

“Bet she wishes we were filming this, huh? Bet she’d love some pictures of that mouth of yours on my dick.” Victor’s still just guessing, but his mind is starting to whirl with possibilities, each better than the last. “I could make you take it all the way, send her some pictures of you choking on it… send her some more of my come dripping down your chin…”

That’s when Takeshi does it. He opens his throat, and he takes Victor in. _All the way._ He looks up with fiercely proud eyes—and for a moment Victor is stunned, both by the flood of sensation and by what he’s _seeing._ That sort of thing takes _practice._

And isn’t this Takeshi’s first time with a man?

Suddenly, the pieces click into place. Suddenly, he understands.

“She wears a cock,” Victor breathes. “Yuuko wears a cock and makes you suck it, and you—god, yeah, _yeah,_ just like that—and you learned how to…” His mind is reeling. He doesn’t even _like_ women that way, but the image is… just… “God, I bet she looks amazing. I’d suck her off, too.”

A choking sound comes from below him, and then Takeshi is pulling off, clutching at his throat, gasping.

Victor crouches, alarmed. The sudden movement jolts his dick in a less-than-pleasant way, but that’s hardly important right now. “You okay?” he asks. “Need some water?”

“No, I’m—Yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine,” Takeshi says, breathless. Another moment passes, and he says, “You can’t just _say_ things like that. About—about—”

“Yuuko?” Victor says, and Takeshi nods. “What, too much? Was I wrong? Does she not have a—”

“No, she does,” Takeshi says, laughing feebly as he sits back on his heels. “I just wasn’t expecting… You said you didn’t like women that way, is all.”

“I’ve made exceptions before.” Victor digs his fingers into the skin at the base of his cock. He’s close, so close. Not right on the edge or anything, but _so close._ “I have to--

Takeshi looks down. “I can finish,” he says. “Just need a second first.” He winces as he stretches his jaw out. “Or…”

“Or?” says Victor eagerly.

“You know what she’d love pictures of? Even more than me sucking you off?” Takeshi’s face is bright red again, but this time he doesn’t look embarrassed. Not even close.

“What’s that?” Victor asks.

Takeshi’s gaze is bold, strong. “You,” he says, “coming on my face.”

Victor’s cock feels suddenly, measurably heavier. He presses at the base of it, holding it in check, because yes, oh yes, this is a game he’s played before. With Yuuri, with Chris before him, with any number of skaters who had a bit of an exhibitionist streak.

Which is most of them.

Including himself.

Victor grins and stands up again. “I’ll get my phone.”

Takeshi breathes out, slowly, and doesn’t move from his spot on the floor.

“Okay, let me just pull up the camera app,” Victor says, scrolling until he finds it. He clicks on the one next to it, though: the photo album app. No sense risking an actual recording, when this is just a game. Still, he continues narrating: “Now let me adjust the lighting. There we go. Now, photo or video? I think video, don’t you?”

Takeshi makes a whimpering noise; clearly, Victor chose correctly.

“Now, just have to make sure the angle is… Yup, yup, there we go,” Victor says, as he makes a show of holding his phone just so. And then, phone clutched firmly in his left hand, he begins to stroke himself with his right.

Takeshi leans close, almost imperceptibly, almost like he didn’t even mean to. He _wants_ this. Maybe not just even because Yuuko will like hearing about it. He _likes_ having Victor’s dick just inches away from his face. He looks _fascinated,_ watching Victor get himself off like this. He _wants_ Victor to—to—

“Oh,” Victor moans, unable to look away from the eagerness in Takeshi’s eyes. “Ah, ah, I’m—”

His knees lock, and his belly clenches, and sensation floods him. He has just enough focus to keep his phone steady with one hand, to aim his cock with the other.

Stripes of fluid paint Takeshi’s face. His cheek, his nose, his lips. Somehow, Victor manages to keep it away from his eyes, which is good, because the man doesn’t seem to have the sense to _close_ them. He’s just staring. Enthralled.

“Okay,” Victor pants, as his breath finally begins to slow. “Okay. Okay.”

“Damn,” Takeshi breathes. “That was…”

Victor huffs a laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, hold on, let me just… let me just get you a cloth.”

“Let me see the video first,” Takeshi says.

Victor blinks, still a little dazed. “What?”

“The video you just took,” he says. “Let me see it before you send it to her.”

“The video I…?” And then Victor understands. “No! No, no, no, I was just pretending to—No! I wouldn’t ever film you without explicit consent.”

Takeshi stares up at him, looking almost hurt. “I _gave_ explicit consent.”

Technically, he’s right. Technically, he did ask Victor to take pictures. But it’s not the same. With something like this, you have to talk it out. You have to make absolutely sure. And if Takeshi’s so new to this that he doesn’t know that, well…

“Sorry,” Victor says. “I guess I just assumed… I mean, me and Yuuri, we sometimes pretend to take video, and I figured…”

“Oh, I get it,” Takeshi says.

But he still looks kind of disappointed.

And if there’s anything that Victor Nikiforov does not want at the end of a sexual encounter, it’s disappointment.

“Here,” he says, holding his phone up. “You’re still a giant mess, and I’m not all the way soft yet. It’s not too late.”

Takeshi grins, and Victor taps the camera app. The real one, this time. “Just photos, no video, okay?”

Takeshi nods. Victor takes his cock in his right hand again—jolting only a little at the renewed sensation—and points it at Takeshi’s face.

“Good,” he says, snapping picture after picture. “Now close your eyes.” Snap, snap. “Open your mouth a little. Just a little—No, less than that!” Snap, snap, snap. “Good. _Perfect._ That’s perfect. Here, wanna see?”

He passes the phone to Takeshi, tucks himself carefully back into his pants, and crouches down to look at the results of their impromptu photoshoot.

Some of them look really stupid. Some of them, though…

“This one,” Takeshi says, jabbing a finger at the screen. It’s one of the ones where he has his eyes closed and his mouth open. He looks beatific, almost. In the corner of the screen, the pink head of Victor’s cock is slightly out of focus. But only slightly.

“That one,” Victor agrees, taking the phone back. “Just to Yuuko, or Yuuko and Yuuri both?”

“Both of them,” Takeshi says. “Obviously. And me.”

And so, as Takeshi saunters into the bathroom to clean himself up, Victor pulls up their four-person text thread and sends the picture.

Eventually, Takeshi emerges again, face scrubbed clean. “More sake?” he says, heading over to where they left the bottle. There’s still plenty more.

“Definitely.” Victor holds up the phone and wiggles it. “Photo sent.”

“Good, good,” Takeshi says, letting out a breathy laugh as he pours. “And now, we wait.”

“We wait,” Victor agrees, accepting a glass and immediately raising it. “To our spouses!”

“May they—What did you say before?” Takeshi asks.

“May they get everything they want tonight,” Victor says. “Something like that.”

“Yes!” Takeshi says. “May they get everything they want. And may they enjoy the picture they’re about to find on their phones.”

“And,” Victor adds, “may they find it in their hearts to pay us back in kind.”

“Hear, _hear,”_ Takeshi says.

And they drink.

**Author's Note:**

> Before you ask, yes, this is definitely a stand-alone. Much as I enjoy imagining Yuuko and Yuuri's adventures in the other hotel room, and much as I believe, with all my heart, that there is a happy foursome somewhere in their future, it is unlikely that I will write either of those things.
> 
> But hey! Thanks for reading! You look great today!
> 
>  **ETA:** If you're interested in the Yuuko/Yuuri side of this scene, check out "The Whole Thing" by SerenadeStrong, linked below!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Whole Thing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16370897) by [SerenadeStrong (ninja_orange)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninja_orange/pseuds/SerenadeStrong)




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